


Pandora’s Boxed Children

by Bluebensie



Category: MYCT - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Maze Runner but not, Monsters, Survival civilization, commenters can control parts of the story, completely winging it, survivalist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29225115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebensie/pseuds/Bluebensie
Summary: Hybrid prisoners are placed into a maximum security containment facility made to be inescapable. It doubles as a sick game show.  Many have given up hopes of escaping, while others are determined to get home. Wilbur will not let himself be forgotten.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. New Faces

Wilbur tried to stop himself from shaking as he stepped down onto the flat ground. He still had a blindfold tied around his eyes, yet had his hands free. Trying to remove it would get him killed. It was probably a test to weed out those without impulse control. The strongest survived, that’s what he had been taught.  
Phil’s frantic whispers still echoed in his ears, holding onto Wilbur’s wrists so tightly it hurt. There had been a raspy echo of panic and pain in his father’s voice, black and white striped wings gently cradling him.  
“Please, you can’t die. Why did you have to do that, Wilbur? Tommy needs his big brother, I need my son. You have to come home, you’ve gotta be strong, for all of us. Be strong, survive.”  
Metal screamed eerily, the deep rumble indicating the noise of it sliding over one another. Judging by the creaking, it was more than likely that of a gate opening. White light spread across his onyx black mask, giving only the faintest silhouettes of the world around him.  
Carefully, Wilbur reached forward with his toes. His foot met grated metal, which swayed slightly as he shifted his weight onto the platform. Was this thing suspended? Ever so gently and slowly, Wilbur set his heel down. Seeing as it didn’t give away, he slowly shuffled his other foot onto it. The grating groaned artificially under his weight, causing a flare of panic. Wilbur put his hands out, jumping as his fingers met metal barely wider than his shoulders. It felt like grating, perhaps bars, just wide enough to fit a couple of fingers between.  
A voice, automated and echoing, sounded above his swaying cage. It was feminine, without a hint of sympathy in its words.  
“Remove your blindfolds.”  
Multiple? Were there others?  
As Wilbur pulled the thick fabric away, his theory was confirmed. There were six cages strung from the ceiling in a circle, Wilbur being the seventh completing the ring. They were suspended above a field, the plush green grass rippling below. It shone healthily in the bright sunlight, peppered with lavender and white flowers. Although Wilbur could only see the small patch through the cages they were hung in, surrounded by a descending pillar of stone brick, it seemed beautiful.  
As far as he knew, though, the place would be far less beautiful once they were inside. Moss and vines had crept up the walls, spreading across the damp stone, leaving thin cracks. White light flicked on above the suspended cages, the robotic voice being replaced with a human woman’s.  
The lights spun around like a gameshow, spreading its ominous gaze over each figure in turn.  
“Welcome everybody! We’ve got this year’s Pandora contestants! You know the rules, you can support anyone and even encourage some things to happen! If you promise to give your player supplies, you can have them do anything you wish!”  
Oh, fuck. No, no, this was like a game show?! They would fight to survive for people’s amusement? Wilbur used to hear rumors of a show called Pandora’s Box, but Phil had forbidden them from ever watching it. Only once had Wilbur tried, and that had been in the worst trouble he had ever experienced before.  
Wilbur chuckled to himself, wondering if Phil regretted that decision now.  
“The rules for providing items, it has to be scanned first, and cannot be heavier than twenty pounds! Guns are not allowed, but any other weapon is! Food and plants are allowed! Money is not allowed! Clothes and medical supplies are allowed! For requests, there are no rules! You can ask for anything! While the contestant doesn’t have to complete the request, they will not receive the reward if they don’t! Each of them has a communicator so they will see your reward and request, along with communicating with each other. All messages are recorded! There are also hidden cameras around the arena!”  
Wilbur wrung his hands, fixing the round glasses on his nose. Just like everyone around him, he was looking up. Towards the lights, towards the camera, and onwards towards those who play with their lives. It was sickening, imagining all those greedy faces picking who they like most. Looks probably had a lot to do with it, that, or bets placed on the contestants.  
Although, beyond the greedy folk and the hateful eyes, were the ones of his family. His father and brother, huddled close by their TV, hand in hand. Perhaps, a wing curled around the young boy as they both prayed for Wilbur. Survive for them.  
“Everyone here knows they aren’t designed to leave! These guys are wicked criminals, with hundreds of different backgrounds. Recently, we have been getting complaints with this place isn’t ‘humane.’ Just a reminder, no one here is human! They are all halflings, or full, beasts!”  
Wilbur tightened his hands at his sides, casting his gaze to the grated floor, and discarded bandana. It was strange to hear the insult hurled at him again, after so many years. For so long, everyone had just assumed he was human. Philza was a magpie mix, with large black and white wings, and his wife Kristen was human. Wilbur had taken after his mother, with no visible signs of the halfling DNA in him. Although, his scenes were sharper than any humans, and his voice not that fully of a man’s.  
They knew his heritage as they contained him here.  
“Enough of the boring things though, let’s meet the contestants!”  
The light swung, settling on the cage parallel to Wilbur’s. In it, stood a young woman, hands curled around the bars so tightly her knuckles were white. She had strawberry pink hair, the strands near her face bleached a platinum blond. Outwardly, she looked incredibly human.  
“Nihachu! Our second youngest contestant. A flower nymph halfling, specifically that of a daffodil. Nineteen years of age! Nihachu, would you pull back your hair for us! Let us see your ears!” The voice sounded almost taunting, begging for her to expose the inhuman traits. They would twist a simple thing, take it and run.  
Slowly, Nihachu obeyed, tucking her hair back to expose long and pointed ears. A tiny, sunshine colored daffodil was tucked behind her left ear. The room was deathly quiet, but Wilbur could have sworn he heard the hooting and disgusted noises from beyond the hidden cameras. He cringed to himself, wondering how something so simple marked the girl a halfling.  
“Nihachu here has been imprisoned for attempted murder. Imagine that! A gentle nymph, believing she could kill someone! If you have bets, place them now on our app at--”  
Wilbur stopped listening, instead focusing on Nihachu. For anyone with normal eyes, her features would have been indistinct. His eyes allowed him to see the downward curve of her mouth, the anger in her eyes. A flower nymph, even a mixture, was driven to attempting murder…She must have had a reason for it.  
The lights swung, focusing on the cage next to her. A boy, not much taller than Nihachu, was sitting on the grating. He had black hair tucked into a beanie, small pinpoint feathers poking out from underneath. Lavish, golden wings set on his back, half spread so they brushed the walls of the cage. He had a tail, made of the same silky, smooth feathers. Streaks of snow-white were scattered between the golden feathers and dark orange endings.  
He was smiling, strangely enough, ruffling his feathers proudly at the cameras above.  
“Here, we have Quackity! A Fulvous whistling duck halfling, twenty years of age. He seems excited, look at those soft feathers. I almost want to take some as a souvenir!”  
Quackity’s smile faltered, fear growing in his cloudy black eyes. The boy shuffled uncomfortably, pulling his wings tightly against his back. A laugh sounded through the microphone, but quickly her voice resumed.  
“Quackity was admitted to the Pandora for drug possession, distribution, and unlawful inter-species relationships. Remember folks, halflings are not supposed to attempt to even speak to higher class humans. Especially, not something as useless as a duck.” There came another harsh bark of a laugh.  
Wilbur narrowed his eyes, gazing across at the now visibly uncomfortable boy. It was nice to see another mixture with a bird, yet a duck was quite unexpected. Quackity had a dark look in his eyes, one that insisted he was a bird of prey.  
The blinding light swiveled again, scanning over the mossy stone and settling onto the largest cage in the room. There stood a boar, probably just under seven feet tall, with short pink fur. Its ears were pointed, with small golden jewels, and a crown. He wore a red-wine colored robe, lined with heavy spotted fur. A cleanly pressed white button-up, and black trousers, sharply contrasting the swine. Strangely, he seemed rather familiar.  
“Here’s Technoblade! A piglin, a swine-like Nether beast! He is our only full-breed here today, and potentially the most dangerous of them all. Wanted for treason, homicide, and resisting arrest! Back home, this little piggy murdered his king for the sake of anarchy!”  
Technoblade? Where had Wilbur heard that name before? Phil seemed to have mentioned him. He was an anarchist, and somehow how related to Phil. What piece was missing?  
The loudspeaker rattled off the next people, but Wilbur barely noted as they said each thing.  
A ram hybrid, twenty-one years old. Wanted for money laundering, tax evasion, and lying under oath. A diamond construct, twenty-one, wanting for aiding and abetting a criminal. A blaze and magma cube hybrid, twenty-five years old, wanted for extortion and unlawful assembly. The youngest, eighteen, was a sound sprite who seemed to be glitching. Wanted for theft and breaking the Geneva convention through chemical weapons. Quite opposite things.  
“And last of all, Wilbur Soot! He may not look like it, but this boy is a magpie halfling. No, sorry folks, no wings or tail. I know, I was disappointed too! But his crime, and looks, but just make him a little more interesting!” Wilbur shut his eyes tightly, half wishing he had big black wings like his dad and little brother. Wishing he had claws, or a tail, maybe weird eyes or feathers in his hair. Anything that would make his crime not his persona’s focus.  
“Arson, bombing, and attempted murder! Quite the line-up there, Wilbur Soot.” Each gaze felt like cigarettes being ground into his skin. As he cautiously reopened his eyes though, finding none of the gazes had the outrage he expected. Amongst criminals though, it made sense. These people understood each other.  
“Now, we’ve got the bets placed, are we ready to release our new contestants?” The room was deadly silent, none of them knowing what to expect. Unarmed, and dangled like bait above shark-infested waters. The chains clinked as they were unspooled, slowly lowering the cages down into the open pasture below. Sunlight poured through the tunnel, growing brighter as they approached it. Wilbur could hear Quackity’s wings striking the bars as he flapped them in fearful excitement, as Tommy had back home.  
Wilbur’s heart pounded in his chest, longing to go back just once. He wanted to hold his little brother, and those wings still full of down feathers, one last time before he knew death. He wanted to cradle that little boy and tell him to be safe. Never make Wilbur’s mistakes.  
The cages settled one after another on the fresh, green grass. The air was thick with warmth and tiny bugs and summer scent. A creek ran not far from them, lined with stones smoothed by the years and leading to a dense clump of forest expanding seemingly endlessly to the east. A sand trail led to a clump of cabins in the distance, crudely made of the same material as the forests. Smoke poured in small puffs from one of the cabin’s chimneys, and tiny figures walked between the houses. Large, black walls lined the perimeter, sealing the contestants inside.  
Wilbur breathed deeply, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. This was so much more serene than he had pictured, let alone had hoped. Once each cage was firmly on the ground, the loudspeaker sounded again. It was automated and echoing, out of place here.  
“Welcome your seven new contestants, Pandora’s Children!” The locks fell away, allowing each person to step out.  
Despite the tenseness, nothing seemed out of place. There was no sudden attack, no launching of an onslaught of danger. Instead, everything was quite still. A tiny figure was approaching, but it seemed they had time before they would arrive.  
The ram, Schlatt, had his hands tucked into his pockets. He was humanoid, except for curled horns and sideways pupils, expanded vertically instead of in a circle. Small, velvet-soft ears poked out from the side of his scruffy face, delicately placed in the middle of his horns.  
“Are we gonna run or wait for that thing to get closer?” Schlatt asked, kicking at the dirt.  
“Well, where would we run to?” Badboyhalo, otherwise known as Bad, responded sweetly. His voice was rather high but reminded Wilbur of glowing embers. He was a Nether beast, multiple rolled into one. He stood taller than Techno but thin and lanky.  
“I could try flying,” Quackity pitched in, spreading his yellow wings. The walls did not have a ceiling, strangely enough. Was this their first time using a flighted contestant? They didn’t even clip his wings.  
Skeppy, the diamond construct, nodded at this idea. He was standing close to Bad, although seemingly tiny by his side. They appeared to already know one another, which made Wilbur wonder if their crimes were somehow related.  
“Sure, bird-boy, see if you can leave.” Schlatt waved his hand dismissively towards the sky, eyes rather glazed. Was he intoxicated? They must have caught him only recently if he was still experiencing the effects of alcohol. When Wilbur found out he was to be arrested and placed in Pandora, he had drunken like hell. Now, all he got out of it was a headache.  
Quackity launched himself off the ground, knees bent and feet delicately placed atop one another. He tucked his arms close in, slowly gaining height by using updrafts. Phil had flown shorter distances but was able to maneuver very well, unlike Quackity. Phil was faster as well but had rather short stamina for higher flying.  
He had almost reached the top of the wall when something skittered onto the rim of the stone structure. Quackity hovered, watching it. He called something to it, but it was too indistinct to make out what he was saying. Only moments later, Quackity suddenly began to plummet, going limp in the air.  
“What the fuck?” Schlatt groaned, stepping back slightly.  
Even if they caught him, falling from that height would have killed Quackity and severely injured whoever tried to catch him. Barely forty feet above the ground, the duck halfling seemed to regain a bit of control over his body, desperately flapping his wings. He seemed lethargic, hands thrown wildly into the air, just doing anything he could to keep himself from plummeting that quickly.  
Luckily, it slowed him just enough for Techno to grab him before he struck the ground. The Piglin barely seemed exerted or worried, holding the small water-fowl with ease. Wilbur’s theory was correct again, as Quackity was incredibly lethargic, head slumping against Techno’s robe immediately. A small needle and vial was sticking from his neck, which Wilbur plucked out as he stepped over. It only created a singular drop of blood.  
Wilbur moved to help tuck Quackity’s wings in to make him easier to carry, but the Piglin had already done so. It was strange to see others known how to properly move wings without damaging them. What was Techno to Phil? He had mentioned him, but for some reason whatever their deal was had slipped his mind.  
“Hello,” A voice startled Wilbur from his confusion.  
The group turned attention from the unconscious Quackity to the new voice. A Persian cat stood bipedal on the edge of the group, digging at the sand trail with soft, brown paws. His tail swished side to side, waiting for someone to answer him.  
Badboyhalo was the first to reply, waving warmly.  
“Hello. Are you one of Pandora’s children?”  
The feline cringed, sharp ears pinning back against his skull, spinning a leather knife sheath in his hands.  
“No one here likes being called that. But yes, we are the contestants from the previous years. My name is Antfrost, I’m a fisher and fighter. Who are you all?”  
The group went around, introducing themselves. Wilbur introduced Quackity for him, seeing as he was still passed out, half-buried in the lining on Techno’s robe.  
“Is he alright?” Antfrost pointed to Quackity.  
Everyone merely shrugged uncomfortably.  
Antfrost clapped his velvet paws, smiling brightly. He was around Skeppy’s height, perhaps a little taller, wearing ripped khakis and a dusted green t-shirt. He had a tan bomber jacket with cream-colored fur on the shoulders. There was a rip out of his left ear, and a pale scar across his fluffy cheekbone.  
“Wonderful! Well welcome everyone, let me take you to meet the rest of the group.”

The day was insufferably warm, as many of them were not dressed for it. The Nether creatures didn’t seem to mind much at least, despite one of them supporting another person. At the entrance to the camp, marked with an arched entryway, they were greeted by a species of hybrid Wilbur had never seen.  
They were mainly humanoid, with jade green hair shaved into an unstyled mohawk. He appeared to have spot-like freckles, decorating their entire body. Green and grey swirling intricate scale-like patterns ran up his spine and down his arms. A gas mask obscured the lower section of his face, and golden googles were set on his forehead.  
Judging by their appearance, the new figure was a builder or engineer. Oil stained tan trousers, and a grey, athletic shirt covered in redstone dust. He rivaled techno in terms of height, but there was a sincere aura of kindness about him instead of intimidation.  
“Hello, I’m Sam!” Something about his pure obsidian black eyes told of a monster, just on the tip of his tongue. “I’m an engineer and builder, although you could probably tell.” He spun a little glancing down at himself then shrugging. He offered a large hand to the group, fingers covered in pure black scales.  
Nihachu greeted him this time, placing her hand into his. She was tiny in comparison but carried herself with pride and anger. It wasn’t anger wrongly placed either. She had been driven to this by something Wilbur didn’t understand  
Quickly after Sam came Puffy, a sheep-like woman in a pirate outfit. She had rainbow fur for hair, with dove white roots. She was the mayor of the town and a medic, quickly offering to take Quackity inside with her, while the others waited outdoors with Antfrost.  
The group was awkward, mainly focusing on one person they could manage to make a slight bond with. Bad and Skeppy who undoubtedly knew one another stood close, whispering and laughing softly despite the dangers of this new situation. Jack and Niki were exchanging awkward conversation, yet her patience didn’t waver even as Jack’s glitching caused him to repeat himself over and over.  
Jschlatt was by himself, staring silently at the clear, crisp sky. Wilbur though stared near Techno. The pieces weren’t falling together in his brain, although he should have had all the information that was needed.  
“You’re Phil’s boy, aren’t you?” The Piglin spoke for the first time, turning a large yellow eye to Wilbur. Techno’s voice was shockingly montone and fairly deep. Wilbur jumped slightly, picking at the corner of his sleeve.  
“Yes, I am. The oldest.”  
Techno nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. “Good to finally meet you. I doubt you remember it, but I’m an old friend of your father’s. I used to tuck Tommy in at night back when you were just a pipsqueak. Eight, maybe?”  
Wilbur jumped, spinning to look at the towering piglin. He had only one babysitter in his life, and he was most certainly not a seven-foot-tall boar. Although, now that Wilbur thought about it, that pink was very familiar. His babysitter had yellow eyes as well, strangely enough...  
“You’re not--” Wilbur spoke, staring at the piglin who was still smiling cheekily.  
“Oh, you’re a fucking shapeshifter!” Realization struck like a train to the chest. His childhood baby sitter was a murderer, a shapeshifter, and a Nether beast! Technoblade nodded, turning on his giant hooves. He stretched his arms, shrinking rapidly. Fur disappeared, skin becoming pale. His ears tucked into pointed elvish ears, and yellow eyes. He had pink hair that hung loosely down his back, entangling with the cape that now hung low enough it scraped the ground.  
His clothes now baggy, he cuffed the jeans and tied a knot in the back. There was nothing stranger than being placed in a maximum-security hybrid prison, then to find your babysitter and turn out he’s a shapeshifter.  
Antfrost approached, merely blinking rapidly at the fact Techno was suddenly multiple inches shorter than Wilbur and appeared to be a fire nymph. The feline cleared his throat, setting his paws together again.  
“I came to ask you what you wanted to do in our community. I know it’s a lot for day one, but it’s best to get this out of the way. If you’re unsatisfied with it, you can ask Puffy to change it. We have farmers, hunters, fishers, scouts, fighters, engineers, medics, miners, builders, and chefs. Some of those include side categories. You can choose two.”  
Techno pitched in, “What are you guys fighting?”  
The fur on Antfrosts neck and spine stood up, shuddering, his smile became strained, “We are surrounded by a maze, and there are...things...in the maze. Creatures like the Griever thrive there. Those things can kill you thousands of ways.”  
Techno hummed to himself nodding, “Fighter and farmer.”  
Antfrost seemed astounded he took interest in the job after stating what he would be fighting but seemed to appreciate it none the less.  
“I can hunt and scout.” Wilbur offered. He was good at anything to do with stealth. Far better than Tommy, that was the best trait he got from his father. Antfrost wrote the answers down on a notebook, then headed off to the rest of the group.  
Nihachu chose a scout and a chef, leaning towards a baker. Jack Manifold took fishing and building. Bad chose medic, opting to leave his second slot open. Skeppy chose to a miner and farmer, working with Sam in the lower levels of the mines. Both of them were resistant to coal dust and natural gas, making it safest. Jschlatt had snapped at Antfrost he didn’t wish to do anything, quickly taking it back upon meeting Velvet. In the end, Schlatt decided on a fighter and a farmer.  
Puffy reemerged, pinching the bridge of her nose. She flicked her ear, quickly adopting a smile as she saw everyone in the courtyard. Schlatt was messing with his horns, while Skeppy and Bad were being loudly teased by Velvet. Ant’s begging for him to be kind on their first day went unanswered.  
“So, I’ve been told you all chose jobs?” Upon everyone nodding, Puffy resumed, “Perfect. You guys will need to share cabins for a while. We don’t have space right now, we will need to build it, so it’ll be a little cramped. You’ll probably have to share with someone even after that.”  
People cringed at each other, except Skeppy and Bad, much to Velvet’s amusement. Puffy took Ant’s notebook, scratching down a few things and whispering in between themselves, before returning to the group.  
“We don’t know how relationships are yet, so we are going to bunk you like it’s a summer camp. Quackity will be staying with me in the courthouse while he’s injured. Badboyhalo will be joining us to learn medicine, Skeppy as well because I can’t separate them according to Ant’s notes.” Puffy laughed, pushing away the flustered feline. “Techno and Schlatt, you’ll be staying with Antfrost and Velvet. Jack and Nihachu, you’ll be staying with Sam.”  
Sam seemed overjoyed to have Nihachu and Jack, quickly asking them about their interests and if they needed anything. Upon hearing Jack, he quickly decided to see if he could help the glitching sprite. Much to Wilbur’s horror, Jack was a machine with sentience, able to open his ‘skin’ like the hood of a car. Velvet was trying to talk to Techno and Schlatt, who both refused to speak with the sugar-coated sprite.  
Puffy glanced at the groups, seemingly satisfied with herself.  
“Alright then, ill see you all tomorrow for training!”


	2. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur has more questions than answers, getting a taste of his new life.

Wilbur was staying with Sam, Niki, and Jack for the next couple of days as the cabins got built. Others were being encouraged to talk to one another as much as possible, to figure out the groups of two or three they would be staying with. Today was mainly for socializing, getting familiarized with their tasks, with a bit of work here and there.  
The day was fair, sunlight streaming between the canopy of basswood trees around their small encampment. Fountain grass grew in dense clusters, framing the man-made runoff ditches facing the pasture. Wilbur had changed into camo pants and an old peanut colored shirt that smelled of dust. Despite the summer warmth, he kept his stained trenchcoat on.   
Phil had given it to Wilbur when he turned ten, although back then it hung so low it dragged through mud puddles on the way to school. The past contestants seemed nice enough, but there was a faint distrust as he surveyed them. Despite Pandora’s box running for five years, there were supposedly only seven members, four of which Wilbur had met.   
Puffy, the mayor, was brought here in year two, having been here the longest. Sam was year three, arriving at the same time as Spifey. Vurb, Callahan, Ant, and Velvet were all from year four, the previous to Wilbur and this current group.   
Wilbur couldn’t stand the idea of someone taking his coat, or it being damaged, instead opting to keep it on. Sam had been out since dawn, while Nihachu and Jack had left not long after. The sunlight was blinding as Wilbur stood in the doorway, surveying the bustling camp. He spotted Sam, Puffy, and Techno in piglin-form near a half-built pine frame.   
Puffy was speaking as Wilbur approached, walking slowly to enjoy the soft grass tickling at his ankles. Sam was listening to her intently, giving a clear feeling he was beaming even despite his face being covered.  
“I have to say, it’s so nice to have larger hybrids here again.” Puffy laughed softly, pocketing her hoof-like hands. “Poor Sam had to take the brunt of the work for building because the rest of us couldn’t reach. Bad is studying right now, but he offered to help.”  
Techno gave only a nod as an answer, holding a section of the rafters as Sam nailed it in. Puffy flicked her ear, turning to face Wilbur. Everything about her was so hospitable, more welcoming than any hug. There was an old weight to her eyes though, a mellow, sorrowful story thinly contained behind her soft warmth.   
“I heard you coming. Good to see you!” Puffy tapped the ground beside her with her hoofed feet, offering Wilbur to join her. He obliged gratefully, admiring the frame of the house. Sam greeted him as well, then shook the beam to see if it was loose. Despite no visible fault, Sam seemed unsatisfied resuming his work.  
“You don’t have to answer this,” Puffy asked quietly, “but what hybrid are you?”  
Wilbur shook his hand, hands up defensively trying to soothe her, “No, no, don’t feel bad. I know I look human. Magpie hybrid, you can’t see any of the traits though. It’s mostly in my senses and voice.”   
Puffy smiled brightly, her cotton-tuft tail wagging enthusiastically. She had cut a small hole at the back of her trousers to put her tail through, “That’s so cool! I never met bird hybrids until this year, although we did have a phantom hybrid year one. I’m a cheviot sheep!” She sounded incredibly proud.  
Most times hybrids admitted their breeds with fear and shock, trying to hide their inhuman traits. Shifters like Techno, and those who could hide it well like Wilbur, were treated like royalty. Those unable to hide it often disappeared from society, fearing social consequences. It was strangely nice to each everyone so comfortable with what they couldn’t control. Phil would have loved these people.  
“How is Quackity?” Wilbur asked, turning towards the courthouse.   
“Oh, he was up and about this morning. You can check on him yourself, Spifey stole him on the way out. You could have seen the way Spifey’s face lit up when he learned there was another semi-aquatic person. Oh, right, he’s a Eurasian beaver hybrid.” Puffy informed, pointing to the dense woods, “Follow the sand path, you’ll find the lake. Say hello to Vurb as you go.”  
Wilbur thanked her, quickly leaving to find the trail and whoever Vurb was. On the way out, Wilbur surveyed the camp to see how the others were doing. Antfrost was slinking through the fountain grass, carefully stepping over clusters of lapis flax flowers. A cherry-wood bow slung over his right shoulder, he dangled a pheasant in the other hand.   
Velvet and Niki were standing by the chef’s cabin, going through a menu together. Schlatt was crouched in the field with someone Wilbur hadn’t seen before. A pale man in a caramel-colored hoodie, face covered in freckles. Two elegant horns were nestled into his hair along with auburn ears, longer than either of the bovideas’. He seemed to be a white-tailed deer, one of the few hybrids Wilbur had seen before.  
They weren’t speaking, instead, using their hands. Although Wilbur didn’t know it, it appeared they were using ASL. Schlatt was mouthing each word to himself as if trying to remember what each sign meant. Wilbur hummed to himself, noting to ask why the ram knew it later. Jack was seemingly missing.   
Wilbur stepped onto the sand, snuggling his shoes into the warm sand. The air was cleaner than he ever smelt before, filling his lungs and soothing the tension in his shoulders. Cardinals and goldfinches flitted through the sugar maples and honey locust, calling bright songs to one another.   
Inside the forest, it was significantly cooler and darker. Lichens and mushrooms rooted themselves into the damp bark of ash trees and junipers. Wilbur let his fingers skim the blue-grey patches of moss, his feet guiding him. Animals scattered at the smell of him, darting beneath storm-fallen trees and into dark burrows. The air gained a thick scent of water and algae, clean enough to be running water. As Wilbur stepped out of the trees and around the rim of the lake, it was strangely deserted. The water was filled with ripples, lily-pads, and algae spread in swirling motions across the greenish surface. A makeshift dam of cut and mud-packed logs blocked a narrow section of the lake where it met the river. The water running to fuel the dam came from the west of Wilbur, narrow and smooth as it ran between the trees.  
Wilbur turned back to face the lake, calling out softly, “Hello? Anyone here?”   
The surface of the water erupted in a flurry of cold droplets and yellow feathers. Quackity hovered a few feet over the water, gasping for air, head tilted to the sky. He was soaked to the bone, the water running streaks down his face. Algae clung to his clothes, covering the young duck with emerald freckles.   
Moments later, another person popped up the water much more gracefully. He had dark brown hair, slicked back with water and covered in algae. Fuzzy, cinnamon-brown ears settled on his head, pinned back with annoyance.   
“You said you’re a water-fowl, how is your lung capacity so bad?” The beaver, Spifey, questioned raising his head fully out of the water. They seemed to both be wearing matching wet-suits.   
“I’m out of practice! I haven’t done diving since I was a duckling.” Quackity squawked indignantly. The pin-point spot on his neck where the needle had struck was little more than a dark spot, fading quickly. It was good to see at least he was back to full energy.  
“What are you two up to?” Wilbur asked, startling Spifey badly enough he dove back underwater. Quackity was cackling, hardly able to hover. He gave up, dropping into the water, spreading the delicate wings to either side. They acted like flotation devices, keeping the hybrid up without wading.   
Spifey glared as he reemerged. He gave a finger to Wilbur, silently asking him to wait, before diving again. Wilbur tracked his silhouette as he approached underwater, moving shockingly quickly. Even blurred by the waves, Spifey appeared to have a large flat tail and webbed extremities allowing him to swim jarringly fast.   
Spifey popped up again, hardly rippling the water as he pulled himself into a sitting position on the bank, leaving his feet in the water.  
“Hello! Sorry, we didn’t meet yesterday, I was in the maze with Vurb and Callahan.” Spifey didn’t extend a hand, instead patting the ground to insist Wilbur sat by his side. Quackity tucked his wings in and swam to join them as well, slower than Spifey but still a talented swimmer.  
“No worries. What are you two doing?” Wilbur repeated himself, drawing his knees to his chest to carefully avoid touching the water.   
Spifey pointed to the dam, “That took damage a couple of weeks ago when it flooded real bad. We set it up to catch pollution and breed fish. There’s a couple of lakes a few miles down, we have each marked for what to do. The next one down is for getting water and plumbing, then the smallest near the cliffs is for swimming. We keep them separate for sanitation and so nobody gets a stray fish hook in them while swimming.”  
Wilbur cringed at that image, unsure how Spifey and Quackity managed to dive when they knew the dangers of it. Spifey seemed so strangely relaxed, head leaning on his hand, gazing dreamily across the sunlight dappled lake. He barely seemed to notice the weight of the water, tips of his hair curling up as they dried.   
He had been here for two years, being one of the ones contained for the longest. Compared to the others, he seemed far less tired. Puffy looked to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, while Sam would do anything to keep his mind focused. Spifey though was so far away from the ground, lost in the waves or the clouds. It was hard to tell.   
Wilbur leaned back, past Spifey to talk to Quackity whose wings and tail were already dry. He was basking in a break between the trees, yawning and stretching.   
“How are you doing? You fell at least eighty feet yesterday.”   
Quackity blinked in surprise, “Eighty feet? Damn, that’s my record. Looks like I have to go one hundred.” The fowl sighed heavily, ruffling his wings. It was impossible to tell if he was kidding.   
“Please don’t,” Spifey laughed softly, returning to the earth suddenly, “Puffy will have a heart attack.”  
Quackity shrugged, tucking his hands behind his head. Wilbur sighed, standing to leave. Well, at least he was alright. He should probably check in with Ant to get scouting and hunting lessons. For being a farmer, it seemed that Ant took most of the hunting missions. Maybe it was the predator instincts.   
Spifey didn’t seem to notice as Wilbur left. A quiet splash signified his descent back underwater. 

It was a little over midday when they came back to camp. Wilbur had been exploring with Antfrost for a while, learning the terrain. Ant was shockingly adept against just about any terrain they encountered, bounding over streams and fallen rocks. He could jump a little over twenty feet forward, and ten upward. Wilbur had gasped sharply enough that Ant thought he was injured upon being told that information.  
Spifey was correct, as a winding river ran farther than the eye can see. Ant said it started and ended at the walls on parallel sides, surrounded by a shockingly diverse forest for miles on each side. The pasture extended west for miles as well, until it reached the northwest wall where it became more marsh-like. Limestone cliffs that reached around forty feet met the walls in the northeast. The camp was snuggled into the southeast corner, parallel to the Deep Blue lake in the southwest. Boar, coyotes, foxes, fowl, and many different rodent species wandered the region. They had to be careful though, as black bears, grey wolves, and mountain lions wandered the forests and pastures although they kept their distance from the camp. The main dangers were finding cubs or kittens when the mothers got more territorial and brutal.  
Ant informed him that Sam’s right leg and arms were a mess of scars beneath his sleeves due to an older female cougar who had gotten territorial while Sam was on patrol alone during his second year. He had limped back, bleeding green, and smelling of smoke and gunpowder. No one knew what happened, only that he wouldn’t stop apologizing to nothing. The weeks after, Puffy had found a gaping crater in the redbud trees and surrounding earth, as if a bomb had gone off.   
Wilbur flopped down in the grass back at camp, pulling off his trenchcoat and lying down on it. His back and feet ached from hiking for so long, although Antfrost seemed adjusted to it already. Jack was sitting in the shade of the courthouse with Niki, just close enough that Wilbur could listen.  
“Why’d you choose se fishing? Are you capable of touching the water?” Niki asked, plucking at the grass around her bare feet. Jack laughed slightly as he answered.   
“Yes, I can, but I don’t even like fishing. I panicked and picked it. I think--think--think--think,” Jack repeated, expression never changing except he would blink hard. This lasted for a couple of seconds before he abruptly stopped speaking entirely.   
“Did that one hurt?” Niki asked. Jack sighed deeply, suddenly looking very weary.   
“No, luckily. I’m getting really sick of it though,” The sound sprite answered. He had irises shaped like discs, one red and one blue. Along with that, he carried noise-canceling headphones and theater glasses. The glasses were red and blue, the opposite sides of his eyes to make them appear both purple.   
“What happened? It’s very rare for sound sprites to glitch frequently. If it’s bad, you don’t need to answer.” Niki asked gently, scooting forward so she could lie down in the sun-soaked grass. She seemed more lively on sunlit days, smiling to the sky as any flower did.   
Jack stayed settled in the shade.   
“A person decided to see what made me tick, ya know? Pulled out my circuits, trying to figure out how a machine had sentience. How I made sound without a throat or even touching anything. He pulled all the gears apart, and it seems he didn’t put everything back together when he let me go. I don’t know where the mistake is, I don’t know if he took something, and I don’t even know if it’s fixable.” Jack growled, a sound like a revving engine. He tightened his hands at his sides, metal creaking, “And of course it’s not a crime when I reported it. I stole what I had to, trying to find ways to fix myself. That was a crime according to humans. After all, what’s a broken sprite to them?”   
Niki patted his leg softly, small flower vines tangling in a ringlet around his anklet. A small, white daffodil bloomed. The flower of rebirth.   
“Humans can be so cruel.” She whispered, folding her hands across her stomach.   
“Truly,” Jack whispered.  
Wilbur averted his eyes, focusing on the half-built frame that now Bad, Techno, and Sam were working on together. Jack and Niki wouldn’t know he heard either, luckily, as he hadn’t told anyone but Puffy just how much better his scenes were.

A cowbell sounded in the center of camp at dusk, calling everyone outside. A man stood waiting, with floppy dog ears and a small curly tail. Wilbur had to assume he was the fawn-colored pug hybrid, Vurb. He had short claws where human nails would have been, little tail wagging frantically. Sam stood, towering over Vurb. They had set up a large bonfire and half-circle cut fir tree logs as seats.   
Everyone stumbled out, weary from their days of work. The outside of the new cabin was finished, being given to Bad and Skeppy as they got along best out of the new contestants. Quackity was staying in the Courthouse with Puffy until he had a cabin. The ones from years past had already been repurposed, fallen, or needed repairs. Apparently, fourteen was one of the highest populations this place had ever had.   
Schlatt sat down between Quackity and Wilbur, while Techno sat next to Skeppy and Bad. Vurb, Spifey, and Callahan settled on the bench beside Wilbur’s. Velvet and Ant had a seat, leaving Puffy sitting alone. Sam opted to stand, not far behind her.  
“What is this? An intervention?” Schlatt laughed loudly.   
“You’re pretty familiar with those, huh?” Velvet shot back, much to Wilbur’s horror. Luckily, both of them found it hilarious.  
Puffy cleared her throat, but the teasing chatter had already spread to Vurb and Spifey, further on to Skeppy until the whole camp was abuzz. Puffy tried repeatedly to get everyone’s attention, but no one seemed to hear her soft pleas. At the third time, it seemed her co-host got a little impatient.   
Sam picked up the firepokers and swung them together, causing an almost deafening crash. Everyone froze, falling silent and staring in startled shock at the large hybrid. Puffy didn’t jump at all, seemingly used to it.   
“Thank you Sam,” Puffy reached up and patted his elbow affectionately.   
“You’re welcome,” Sam answered tenderly, before his voice back steely as he faced the group, “You guys are lucky it was me getting your attention. You better get your act together, you don’t want Puffy mad at you. She’s mayor for a reason.”   
Puffy laughed softly, although everything was tense. They clearly weren’t kidding. Puffy had survived here for three years, and claimed her spot as mayor by her second year. She cleared her throat one final time despite the silence, beginning to speak.  
“Most nights, we set up bonfires like this and take shifts until it burns out in the morning. Although it hasn’t happened in years, we did used to have Griever attacks. They occasionally come inside the walls at night, and by God, you do not wanna be taken by surprise with a Griever.” She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, lowering her head. Sam set his giant hand on her back comfortingly, while Spifey averted his eyes. Previous years left their marks.   
“Anyway, it’s a time for us to enjoy dinner together and just get along. Please, enjoy everyone. It’s pheasant and bean soup tonight. Thanks to Callahan for the beans, Ant for the pheasant, and Velvet for cooking.” Puffy informed as Velvet passed out copper mugs filled with the dull-tasting soup. Food was food nonetheless.   
Wilbur turned to Schlatt, who had refused to speak to anyone for most of the day. Elbowing him softly only resulted in a much harsher elbow to the ribcage.   
“Ow, you fucker, I just wanted to ask a question,” Wilbur laughed, although Schlatt just continued to eye him suspiciously. The ram kept his shoulders hunched protectively over his soup bowl, ears pinned back to show aggression.   
“Calm down, I just wanted to know how you learned ASL.” Wilbur scooted away slightly, putting his free hand up as a sign of peace. Schlatt at least unpinned his ears, thinking for a moment before answering.   
“My little boy is hard of hearing. A firework went off real near to him, and it messed up his ears pretty bad. Being goats, our ears are quite sensitive, and it was so close. Scariest day of my fuckin’ life.” Schlatt muttered the last bit, stabbing his spoon into the soup angrily.  
Wilbur nodded slowly, that would be horrifying, “You’ve got a kid?”   
Schlatt looked very pained for a moment, “Yes. His name is Toby. Poor kid deserves better.”   
Oh shit, was he about to cry? Wilbur never knew how to handle those moments of pure vulnerability from those around him. Cautiously, Wilbur set his hand on the ram’s shoulder as Sam had done to Puffy.   
The ram didn’t react, instead resuming angrily eating soup. The group seemed content now, as Quackity huddled on the ground near Spifey, discussing tips for diving and swimming. Skeppy was messing with Techno, who was being strangely responsive. Ant was discussing Bad’s ability to shrink with fascination, while Jack and Niki chimed in occasionally. Vurb and Callahan were communicating through sign language incredibly quickly, far faster than Wilbur could even attempt to understand. Puffy and Sam were the quietest, sitting on the log and talking softly.   
They seemed closest, trying to support the weight of the world on their shoulders. A loud buzz, amplified and echoey, sounded in the camp. Multiple people jumped, while the second and third year folks’ mood dropped severely.  
Quackity and Wilbur in sync pulled out the buzzing device, the screen lit with a bright message. It was holographic, seemingly unbreakable. It wouldn’t stop buzzing until they reviewed the request.   
“You have a request!” It sang over and over in that disgustingly cheery automated voice, begging and taunting for them to open it.   
Abject horror painted Puffy’s face, her trembling hands clenched together like a prayer. Sam had a large arm around her shoulders, face covered with one hand. Even Spifey seemed a bit more grounded right now, staring at Quackity’s screen with quick breaths.   
“Open it,” Vurb croaked, leaning in. He hung his head, studying the grass.   
Wilbur hesitated, watching Quackity. Neither of them knew what to expect, but the reaction just from the sound was bad enough. Quackity raised his hand, trying to steady himself. He began to count down on his fingers, just to give everyone a few seconds to prepare.   
“3...2...1...Go!” Quackity and Wilbur’s fingers hit the screen at the same time. The message played aloud, painfully echoed,   
“Ochokinode requests; ‘Do a flip!’ Reward; Guitar.”   
The breath taken the camp took was so deep, so shaky with relief that Wilbur felt physically weak. He dropped his communicator, laughing to the sky. Quackity had pulled his knees in, grinning brightly at the message. Tears shone in both Puffy’s and Sam’s eyes, holding onto one another with pained glee.  
“It’s a good one. Oh thank goodness, it’s good.” Sam sounded on the border of sobbing, covering his face.   
Puffy loosened her grip on Sam’s wrist, “Thank you, whoever it is, thank you. A good person… it's been so long since I’ve heard a good one. The older years don’t often get requests, but when we do they’re usually sickening.”   
Quackity shakily got up, balancing carefully on the log. He jumped off, using his wings to summersault through the air gracefully. His communicator lit up green, saying he completed the request. Callahan, who was clearly trying to raise the mood, clapped for Quackity.   
The young water-fowl didn’t have the energy to bow, instead collapsing onto his knees and holding the communicator to his chest tightly. Wilbur looked at the grey screen, chuckling softly and trying to let his goosebumps settle.   
“I can’t do a flip.”   
That gained a real laugh out of the group, the abrupt response just barely managing to spread joy. Sam stood, walking closer to the warm light and beckoning Wilbur closer.   
“You want that guitar?” He asked.   
“Yes, I like playing.”   
“Alright, c’mere. Put your left arm straight up, and just adjust your weight. Oh, and trust me.” same instructed. Wilbur obeyed, nervous but standing still. Sam hooked his hand on Wilbur’s leg, the other across his torso.   
“Use your other arm to hold onto mine.” Wilbur did so, tensing. Sam picked him up, forcefully pushing his leg up to flip Wilbur over his arm. It was only a matter of second that he was suddenly back on his feet, clutching on Sam’s scarred arm for dear life. His communicator lit up green.   
“Ta-da!” Sam announced, stepping away and bowing. That gained a properly loud round of applause, occasionally interrupted by a whistling voice from Jack followed a crisp laugh from Nihachu. Her laugh sounded like a bell, the exact brightness they needed.  
“They’ll be arriving tomorrow,” Skeppy said, picking up Wilbur’s communicator.  
“Perfect. Let’s up we don’t have another scare like that for a while.” Spifey sighed deeply, standing. It was impossible not to notice the slight twitches of fear in Puffy’s and Spifey’s ears. It left a foul taste in Wilbur’s mouth as he wondered.   
What had been asked of them?

**Author's Note:**

> The Requests can be added by the commenters! You can request someone to do something and state a reward if they complete if. Please don’t be super creepy, otherwise you can ask for anything.


End file.
